Saturday, September 13, 2008

Winter Wonderland

Its twenty miles up a nasty 4x4 dirt road to get to the "North Supply TH"... no enough to keep me and my busted red pickup out!
I went up there for the snow after two miserable days of precip. had left the high peaks above the town nice and white. The chance to play in the ice in September simply proved too tempting. I powered up the road- Its steep; Its rough... and today it was slick.- Early on there was only deep pools of muddy snow melt- far up there were more icy obstacles.
The road itself also grew more challenging as I ascended- I had to stop and analyse a tall rock or fallen tree several times during the travel.
My excitement grew every time the snowy caps appeared from behind the trees on the side of the steep road- I could see Baldy all in shine over the village and lake.

Cool.
At the trail head I was looked upon by a whole crowd of orange and camouflage. It was elk season, and the camp full of hunters who occupied the small parking lot obviously did not like my presence.
I approached the scary strangers- One man spoke to me; they were from west viginia and had been there three days without having seen any elk. I asked about where their people were and they assured me I would not be shot, as they were using only bows.
I accepted it- though I was not quite convinced about my safety. The air was a perfect temperature- the sky was clear and it was going to be a beautiful day!
I started up the wide, muddy trail; the snow was everywhere! I could resist only a mile or so before I broke down and made a tiny snowperson. The snow was melting and wet, though it was not as cold as I expected.
He stood about a foot off the trail- his eyes were of jagged stones, his arms were spruce twigs with his nose. My snowdude sat in the middle of the muddy trail- I said my goodbyes to the new thing and split only moments after it's creation. I imagine he'll be there for many months.
I went through a fork in the trail; Wolverine was to my right.
Well, I wasn't too sure about wolverine, but I was confident that right was the right direction for me!
I walked swiftly past a meadow to the right of the trail; I slowed only when I noticed the fresh tracks of a large pair of boots splitting off to the right. I assumed it to be a hunter- The tracks led only one way-
When I slowed down was when I noticed what I had been missing for the long first half of my wet hike. I had to take a break by the end of the second meadow-
The only seat was a lonely rounded boulder- overlooking the long meadows from their far end. I sat on the boulder- The snow was two or three inches deep at this point. My white breathe slowed to a more normal rate and the burn of my legs disappeared into nothing. .The temperature was beginning to drop- but the sun was only one ridge away; the meadow and I seemed to be shaded by a cloud. I stood and walked- this time a little slower. I got past the meadow and into a few scattered spots of thick trees- mostly the brighter spruce.

WHen the sun returned I was introduced to a whole new world- an equally beautiful, fast changing one!
The trees rained and threw their heavy snow to the ground- I understood when I felt the warm light hit the left side of my face. Everything was becoming wet- the sound was intense. I imagined it to be somewhere in between a pouring rain and the muffled, distant fire of an army of rifles. The trees themselves- my close surroundings- seemed to be in some chaotic state of battle.
There was ice debris moving everywhere- in every direction and I worked to avoid the ice "bombs" that exploded nearby every few seconds. The whole world was collapsing until several moments after another large cloud floated before the sun. Over the course of the next 20-minutes of wooded switchbacks that should take me to blue ridge, I encountered similar episodes of violent meltage. I imagined the forest to be a battleground, and no matter how many heavy, wet snow-bombs were thrown at me, I was hit by none directly.
I thought about war and the military- something to which I had given little attention until now. It is not for me though; I cant say that I support the idea in many cases and I certainly couldnt enjoy the punitive authority or lack of freedom.. I'll stick to the woods.
The snow got deeper and deeper; The trail, which shown only two sets of tracks, was slick- the snow was wet and loose. The tracks were those of a man (or a woman with a GIANT shoe size) and a large dog. They looked fresh, and went only one-way: up. The lack of returning footprints was both exciting and menacing. I thought that he (or she) stuck to the invisible trail very well- 'must be familiar with the area.
I broke out of the dense spruce and pines- never did get smashed by a falling slushie. I was coming out of the treeline. The signs at the top read
<--WOLVERINE C^D BLUE RIDGE ^
The cdt ran up the wolverine and split to the right at the treeline- the marker was written in sharpie and pencil in the empty space next the the trail names. I recognized the sign standing- one of the new national parks signs. The older, painted one was one of the old hand-done NFS signs and shown the same trail names and corresponding directions.
I decided to nab it on my return... 'Twas a work of art!
I took the trail to my right- opposite of the sign, and proceeded onto the alpine.


WHAT A GORGEOUS DAY!
The clouds just kinda floated above me; the sky was a beautiful deep blue.. there was no wind at all! My boots had filled with ice, though I hadnt noticed until I stopped to -oo and -aah at the mountains. The air was surprisingly warm...
i could see the many icy peaks above and behind my little village- the white extended only about halfway down the range. The alpine was pristine, perfect and beautiful- my dissappointing photos give it no justice!
I spent a wonderful hour or so walkin around the icy ridge- I got better than halfway to bowen lake from where I entered onto the alpine where I recognized a big orange lichen-covered rock peekin' out of the snow. I tried to snap a photo close enough the one I made when the mountain was snow-less.



No comments: